Averting Catastrophe

FIRST; I suppose, I would emphasize that I was neither ‘pro nor con,’ with regard to the infamous pontoon bridge which linked the Island of Sunset Beach with the North Carolina  mainland.

My wife and I “discovered” Sunset Beach in the spring of 1984.  A serene island; accessible only by “Playing Chicken” when crossing the Inter-Coastal Waterway by means of this quaint one-lane floating structure.  At that time there were no signals to control  the flow of traffic, and everyone; “Took their Chances.”

Like so many others, we fell in love with the atmosphere of this barrier island, and it was our dream; to one day make our home here.  Our dream was realized in 1991 when we retired to the mainland adjacent to;  “The bridge.

In the ensuing 15 years witnessed hundreds of cottages constructed and a substantial increase in the flow of traffic to and from the island.  More than once we had been stranded due to a breakdown in the intricate mechanism that allowed the bridge to open and/or close.  This we accepted as part of the dues which we were willing to pay for the privilege of enjoying these peaceful surroundings.

Due in part to favorable publicity, each of these years had seen an increase in the number of vacationers who also discovered this captivating environment and many decided, as we did, to make their home here.

The decisions made by the elected leaders denoted this same concern when they voted in favor of, and with the concurrence of the Department of Transportation, upgrading the present bridge.

Opposition was immediate with the opposing side crying that easier access to the island would promote more growth.  If the past fifteen years was any indication, the growth was already there; and in my humble opinion; our only option was to have made the best of it..

Personally I would have accepted any decision made by our elected officials, but there was one thing of which I was certain.  “Something must be done to insure the safety of lives and property on the island.”

The other shoe was dropped on January 20, 1995, when; during a 30 mile per hour wind;  A barge severed the access to the island.  My wife and I were two of many; who were stranded because of this mishap.  “Thank God!”  “There was not a fire on the Island during this time.”

With only a couple of fire hoses; (which were boated across); and a handful of volunteers;  This “UTOPIA” was at the Mercy of the weather. Had a fire started?  The high winds would have wreaked havoc with the entire island.

Mama and I were in favor of retaining the “Original Bridge Structure,” but would have accepted the floating “BRIDGE,” as a “MUSEUM EXHIBIT”  across a small stream on the Island itself.

“WHOSOEVER: “The town leaders were at the time:”   “They made the decision for  gaining a better access to the island; but the bridge, itself; was destroyed.”  “The decision came about in 2005; after we had moved into the foothills of North Carolina:”  “THEY didn’t wait for the disaster.”

Demijon.

“GETTING OLD.”

“Ya’ Know What ???”   “I caught myself  thinking ’bout it;”   “Th’ other day; an;’  “Ya’ Know What ???”  “Right then & thare:”   “I sez to my self;”  “Myself:” “It’s ever-bodies job:”  “Like it or lump it.”

“There are very few children who do not anticipate growing up, and to eventually become  able to; “Run with the big dogs.”   Their wish to emulate the adults around them increases each year until they finally reach the age of majority.  It is here that reality sets in and many of the fantasies they have looked forward to for so long become overshadowed by the actuality that; “It ain’t what it’s cracked up to be!”

For instance:  The passage of time during their early years was measured in months instead of days.  It seemed forever to wait until another birthday, a holiday, Christmas, etc.  Patience is not their strong suit at this juncture in their lives.  It is every parents wish that their offspring remains a child for as long as possible; but even they remember similar feelings from their own childhood.

Try as we might;  We sometimes, fail to instill within their young minds, some of the things they will face as an adult.  For the benefit of the young who read this blog, I will include a listing of a few problems that they will encounter once they reach the age of being; “some two years older than dirt.”

#1  –  Everything hurts and what doesn’t hurt will not work.

#2You get to the point of looking forward to a dull evening.

#3Your back goes out more than you do.

#4 –  The little gray-haired lady you help across the street is yourwife”.

# 5 –  Your children are beginning to look middle-aged.

#6The list of names in your “little black book”, all end in M.D.

#7 –   You know all the answers; but nobody asks you the questions.

#8 –   The gleam in your eye is the reflection of the Sun on on your Bi-focals.

#9 –   Your pacemaker opens the garage door of the pretty girl across the street.

#10 – Your knees buckle; but your Belt  Won’t.

More valuable advice from The Demijon Book” of important Stuff” will be on the market soon.  To reserve your advance copy, have your credit card ready and call BR-549.

That’s BR-549;  CALL TODAY!

Demijon

IT WOULD STILL MAKE A GOOD BOOK; Right?

 While rummaging through my desk one rainy afternoon, I came across a list of titles that I had planned to write a story about.  At one time, they probably made perfect sense: But now, each was as foreign to me as Arabic.  If I had pursued them while the ideas were fresh in my mind, who knows:  Perhaps one of them would be on the New York Times best seller list. 

The very fact that the list was discovered months or perhaps years later is proof that I handled these titles in my usual method, that of procrastination.  Here were wonderful, exciting titles but with no story outlines.  They were nothing more than a bunch of jumbled words at this late date.  Not one of them caused the little bulb over my head to light up.

Examples:

“JOLENE’S BRA.” Now why in the world would I attempt to create a story about Jolene and her undergarments?  I don’t even know the girl and even less about ‘brassieres.’

“PASSION’S OVERTURE.”   Titillating beginning; to say the least, but nothing in my rather limited experience has qualified me to even think about ‘passion’ and as far as I’m concerned ‘overture’ was something that William Tell did.

“TALES FROM THE GREEN SWAMP.”  I know where the Green Swamp is; but I have never been there nor have I ever heard any tales from there with the exception of the thirty-nine foot Alligators and the hundred pound Rattlesnakes.

“STRIP SEARCH.”  Apparently this would have been a story about Police or Detective work, but since my only encounters with either has been in the neighborhood of illegal parking,  Why would I even imagine myself as an authority on police procedures? 

“Second Thought!”  This one, would have made for fascinating reading though: Don’t you think?  Could it be possible; that the Author is attempting to release information as to the behavior of a few members of  “His Honor;”  “(The Mayor)s;”  “(Private Protection Squad)?” 

That being fact; “They had almostUNCOVERED”  an “Enforcement” that has been a “NO-NO”; “DURING -DUTY;”  for many years:  Can you imagine the amount of promises  that  Demijon has agreed on to; NOT PUBLISH ‘THiS’ BOOK!” 

These are only a few of the titles which I had hoped to develop into best sellers and were laid aside until such time that I had the opportunity to give them proper attention.  When that time came, I had completely forgotten about the titles to say nothing of the story line.  Perhaps one day soon; I will write a story about these titles. 

You know; possibly something like; “The Following, Article.”  “Don’t worry, Mama;”  “(Not a Cuss-Word throughout.)”   “I Promise!”  “It’s really a book that you can allow your Grand-Father or Grand-Mother free access to; without being embarrassed.             Dj.

                                                      And here’s the  proof.  

“THE  TEMPTRESS”                                                                                By  Demijon

Jolene lived in a rather obscure cabin situated deep in the Green Swamp where she had to battle massive ‘Alligators’ and huge ‘Rattlesnakes,’ to do even simple tasks like the hanging of her wash on nearby bushes.  She was a ‘passionate’ person who spent her days reciting ‘overtures’ to the wildlife that abounded in the area while lovingly tending the Illegal, Liquor Still, that was the major source of her income.  The pride she took in her product was evident, due in part to her insistence on the use of the finest ingredients for its production. 

It was a hot summer afternoon when Detective Drake and Officer Pike raided the Illegal operation.  Officer Pike smashed the Still and proceeded to empty the several cases of whiskey-laden fruit jars stacked nearby: Obviously awaiting distribution. 

Detective Drake advised Jolene of her rights and gently handcuffed her, ignoring her passionate attempts to seduce’ him. When he attempted to strip search her, he discovered that she was devoid of one important item of her underclothes; due to the fact that she had left her Brassiere hanging on a small bush that Jolene used as a makeshift clothesline…..

Oh well !,  Maybe someday…..!

 Demijon

This Blog does not have CENSORSHIP RATING:  What it does have are limitations on what we can write about and still conform to the rating for General Audiences.

That generally is;   “Folks; what has got plenty of money.”         Dj.

THE “SITTIN’ UP”

One of my hero’s from the days of yore, was the late Louis Grizzard.  Louis was a columnist for The Atlanta Constitution.  He was also the author of numerous books and a much sought after public speaker.  Many of his speech’s were recorded and I was fortunate to acquire a couple of them.

His boy-hood days were spent in a small town in Georgia and it was from here that most of his stories originated.  One rendition that has been a favorite of mine was of the custom in many small towns that I vividly remember.  It was called, “sitting up with the dead.”

I cannot recall, nor will I attempt, to re-tell these stories word for word; but will try not to deviate from the original.  Any inaccuracies can be blamed on my fading memory.
*************************
Uncle Cleve died and his body was sent to the McKibben Brothers Funeral Home; where it was prepared for burial.  In the last years of his life, Uncle Cleve suffered from an illness that caused him to be bent over.  The brothers became concerned about how to lay him flat in a casket.

Rabbit; The oldest brother: (a graduate of Georgia Tech, School of Funeral Engineering), came to the conclusion that they would have to strap him down.

It was also custom to bring the deceased home for several days before the Funeral Service.  The ones chosen to ‘sit up with the dead,’ were, Waylon, Bubba, and Earl.

When all the friends and neighbors had departed, the three assignee’s sat in the parlor where the casket was arranged between two floor lamps.  For comfort, they fanned themselves with the hand-held, Funeral Home Fans that were provided by The McKibben’s.

The cardboard fans boasted a likeness of Heaven, on one side and a picture of McKibben Funeral Home on the other.  The three Sitters relaxed as much as possible in the folding, metal chairs; and stared at Uncle Cleve’s nose over the side of the casket.

Around ten o’clock, Bubba said, “If y’all are going to sit up; I believe I’ll go to bed.”  That said: he rose and left the room.  A couple of hours later, Earl said, “Waylon: if you’re going to sit up; I think I’ll go to bed also.” He too, left the room. This left Waylon, sitting alone in the room with Uncle Cleve.

At precisely 2:00 a.m., there “Come up a bad cloud.”  A storm so fierce that it rattled the windows.  Thunder roared and lightning flashed for what seemed to Waylon, hours before the intensity of the storm reached its peak.

Suddenly, there came an extremely loud clap of thunder; and lightning lit up the room as if it were daylight. It was so furious that it knocked out every light from Moreland, Georgia, to downtown Spartanburg, South Carolina.  The metal Funeral Home chair that Waylon sat in was charged with so much static electricity that he tingled from his head to his toes.

Perhaps it was coincidence; but it was at that exact moment when the strap, that Rabbit Mckibben had tied the corpse down with; broke and Uncle Cleve came rising out of that casket.  It was right then that Waylon; “Cast down his Funeral Home fan.” “Rose up from his Funeral Home chair; and loudly stated… “UNCLE CLEAVE: IF YOU’RE GOING TO SIT-UP; I BELIEVE I’LL GO TO BED TOO!”

In my humble opinion; among humorists; The late, Louis Grizzard had no equals. I suppose the main reason that I make a feeble attempt to emulate his style of writing; is that we both found that laughter could ease the hardships of growing up “Lacking.”

Demijon

Anyone who can say, “I caught myself looking”; has most probably; “Sat Up With The Dead;” at one time or another. Dj.

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Christmas gifts

Posted on November 30, 2008 by John Sellers

The older I get, the more I’m inclined to believe that the hullabaloo of enduring the frantic crowds while searching for that perfect gift for a loved one is pure folly.  We have been indoctrinated by way of television that the only gift worth giving is one from such & such store.  Most stores in every mall have allotted, at least, 1/4th of their floor space to display Christmas items even before they remove the Halloween costumes.  Perhaps their thinking is that the earlier the items are displayed, the easier it will be to separate the shoppers from their money.

It has always been my personal opinion that the best gifts are those that can be hand-made from materials readily available.  A small wood carving, a knitted shawl, a painting, a framed family photograph, a pie or cake made from a secret family recipe, a small ornament that a friend or relative has admired, or even a hand-made greeting card.

It is so much easier to rush to the mall, purchase a displayed item that would be cast aside within days.  It is easier still to simply write a check.  However, if a lot of thought, as well as a lot of effort were expended, the gift will be treasured for years and perhaps become an heirloom.

One particular item has been prominently displayed in our home for better than forty years.  It is a carving of a bird hand, crafted by a neighbor  The material used was nothing more than a plain old 2 X 4 board.  Obviously, weeks or perhaps months of spare time was spent on this object.  This is only one of our treasured, perfect gifts.

By spending a little time thinking about a friend or relative, I’m certain that you can remember that little item that they have mentioned as something that will become a precious possession for them.

Believe me:  This will be much better than to take a chance on being trampled by the stampede at the mall just to be the first in your neighborhood to get that one item that everyone else wants.

Demijon

Have you ever wondered how you would know when you’re out of invisible ink?

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Afterward

Posted on November 29, 2008 by John Sellers

I suppose age has a lot to do with changing our attitudes toward the much touted after-holiday sales.  I can well remember when we looked forward to these days with a passion that was almost erotic.   Although we never spent the night in line at a favorite store to be among the first to take advantage of the tremendous bargains, we did set the alarm clocks to awaken us in the wee hours on the morning after Thanksgiving as well as Christmas.
In our younger days, we took advantage of a program inaugurated by our bank to prepare us for the spending spree that we felt was necessary during the closing days of each year.

This program was called The Christmas Club.  Religiously, we deposited one or two dollars into this account each week when we visited the bank to cash our tiny paycheck.  We would usually withdraw about half of the proceeds on the Friday after Thanksgiving and rush to the Malls to buy gifts for those on our short list.

The balance was left in the bank until the day after Christmas when we again fought traffic and long lines to purchase discounted Christmas cards, decorations, wrapping paper and sometimes other gifts, to be stored until the next season.  This was merely our personal practice in frugality and was self-imposed by; “More month at the end of the money.”

I have not heard of a Christmas Club in years and I do not know if any financial institution still has such a plan; but when we were a young, struggling family, this program was a Godsend.  It allowed us to put aside a few dollars while still meeting our financial obligations. In many cases, our Christmas Club savings averted a rather bleak Christmas season.

We went through many of the ‘after-holiday sales’ over the years; but we never experienced the viciousness of folks literally killing someone in their frenzy to be the first to get a bargain.  Thank God, we have reached the point that we can accumulate a few meager gifts (on sale) throughout the year and are not required to fight in order to simply get into a store.

Demijon

Chances are; the clothing that is on sale is either ugly or won’t fit!

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Thanksgiving 2008

Posted on November 28, 2008 by John Sellers

Everyone here in the foothills of North Carolina had been scurrying around for days before the holiday in order to prepare a feast of turkey with all the traditional trimmings.  I tried my best to convince my child-bride of 63 years that we should celebrate Thanksgiving in the way that the Pilgrims did when they landed at Plymouth Rock in 1620.

In my logical mind, it didn’t make sense to survive on dry beans and potatoes for a year and then lay out a spread; that will be consumed within hours.  Apparently, my rational argument went in one ear and out of the other as soon as I spoke.  Sue’s only response was, “The children will be here; just shut up and go to the grocery and get what I have written on the list.”

She prepared as much of the feast as possible in advance of every ones arrival.  As usual, I was explicitly warned not to delve into any of it before the big day.  The children arrived the day before Thanksgiving and I was dispatched to purchase Bar-be-que for the evening meal.  Fortunately, the Church was hosting a breakfast early on Thanksgiving morning, thus sparing us the chore of feeding everyone until the big feast, later in the day

We returned from the church and the frenzy began.  I am convinced that every pan and pot we own was pressed into service, containing some delicacy, and awaiting their turn on the stove.  Every square inch of all the cabinet counter tops were being utilized for one concoction or another.

Questions of “what can I do,” arose from every quadrant only to receive an answer of, “just stay out of my way!”  No one wished to risk the wrath of the chief cook and bottle washer and adhered to this directive.  ‘The Baby’ ignored this warning and stayed underfoot during the entire preparation with hope that a choice morsel would be dropped.  He knew well that mama would refrain from scolding him.

The children entertained themselves with watching borrowed movies while I was assigned to the duty of assuring that ‘Th’ Bear’ was regularly taken for his constitutional walks to attend to his toilet.

Finally, in the late afternoon, everything was in readiness for the huge feast of turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, candied yams, traditional collards, Lima beans, fruit salad, dinner rolls, a couple of things that I could not recognize, and several varieties of pies and cakes.

When everyone had gorged themselves, the children insisted on helping clear and store the leftovers before again, settling down before the television and the final chapter of the movie.  Exhausted, my child-bride literally collapsed in her recliner and soon was observed snoozing.

Sue and I are indeed thankful that our family was together for this special celebration. Hopefully; if it is the good Lord’s will, we will all be able to wear ourselves to a frazzle on many more occasions such as this.

Footnote:  I had been mandated to awaken everyone in time to get to the breakfast, therefore I had been awake since 03:00 a.m.  Regardless of a short nap after returning from the church, combined with my duties of looking after Th’ Bear, had made an extremely long day for me.  At dark-forty-five, I excused myself and retired to the comfort of my bed for my beauty sleep.  Alas: When I awoke this morning, I realized that the mattress salesperson had lied.  One look in the mirror revealed that a soft mattress and a few hours of sleep cannot rejuvenate someone whose skin appears as cracked leather loosely draped over a washboard.
Demijon

I would like to take this time to reiterate my remarks.           DJ

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Survivors

Posted on November 27, 2008 by John Sellers

We were born in an era before the invention of such (unheard of) items as television, plastic, velcro, computers, credit cards, McDonalds, video games, Toys-R-Us, roller blades, rap music, discount warehouses, jet planes, air conditioning, microwaves, cassette recorders, the Amazing Vegamatic and many, many more which today’s society considers indispensable.  Our period of time was even before the man in the moon became the man ON the moon.  Our hero, Buck Rogers, was the only successful space traveler.

We are survivors simply because we were taught at a very early age to ˜make do.”  The country was emerging from the worst financial catastrophe in history, The Great Depression.  Jobs were practically unobtainable and any product or service was almost impossible to sell; therefore, the proverb of ˜waste not, want not” was strictly adhered to.

When the last strand of thread was removed from a wooden spool, we immediately sawed it in half and it became wheels for a child’s miniature car.  Larger spools were converted into wind-up tractors by notching the outer edges and adding rubber bands and a small stick.  Thousands of miles of roads for these vehicles were constructed anywhere there was soft sand.  Empty snuff tins filled with sand leveled and packed these thoroughfares.  Most importantly, this pastime cost no more than an imaginative mind.

We made rifles and pistols from any scrap of board that was not needed for repairs to the house or out buildings.  Shaping the board into a replica of a gun was accomplished with a hand saw and pocket knife.  Clothespins were attached to the butt ends to hold a strip of a discarded inner tube which was stretched to the end of the barrels.  The operation of these weapons was simplicity itself.  Aim the piece at the intended victim, depress the clothespin and the strip of rubber would quickly disable your enemy.

Bicycles were cost prohibitive for most of our families. Mechanical means of becoming mobile for many of us was in the form of metal roller skates which were clamped to the soles of shoes and tightened with a metal key. These were of little use to those of us who did not have access to sidewalks, parking lots and paved streets.  The deep sand of rural America guaranteed many scraped elbows and knees. The grinding sound from the metal wheels rolling on any paved surface announced ones presence, especially early on a Christmas morning.  If we lost the key, we were out of business until Parker’s Department Store began its annual “going out of business sale.”

Another method of innovative travel was through the use of homemade stilts (tom-walkers).  We fashioned these from cast-off strips from a nearby saw mill. They elevated the rider anywhere from six inches to one foot.  We were considered proficient when we could run while using them at the one foot level.

Games of the times were usually Chinese Checkers, Old Maid, Set-Back, Rook, Marbles and Hop-Scotch.  We played baseball with A string-wound ball: A retired work glove, and a bat trimmed from a slab: (again from the nearby saw mill).

The nearest thing to fast food was served to us in a converted railroad car that specialized in hot dogs and bologna sandwiches if we were fortunate enough to have an extra ten cents which was not needed for family emergencies.

We basked in the only air conditioned building in town, the theater.  A huge fan was positioned behind the screen and in back of a water soaked curtain or a tray which held a 100 pound block of ice.  The air blowing through the soaked curtain or across the ice kept the darkened building comfortable.  For .09 cents,  we could stay cool for hours.

If our families were fortunate enough to own a battery powered radio, many of our neighbors would gather at our homes on certain evenings to listen to favorites like Lum and Abner, The Grand Old Aprey, Gang Busters, Amos & Andy, and, of course, The Lone Ranger.

Our hearing talk of live, color pictures being transmitted by air waves; walking on the surface of the moon; inserting a plastic card into a machine and receiving cash; corresponding with others via microchips in a computer and flying coast to coast in just over four hours was considered so much malarkey.  Anyone believing in these fantasies was characterized as a ˜nut-case.” 

Yes.  We are survivors;  Not by choice but by necessity.  We bear no permanent scars simply because we never knew we were deprived.

Who are we?

We were the inhabitants of a by-gone interval in time. We are senior citizens.   Demijon

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Wise or otherwise?

Posted on November 26, 2008 by John Sellers

There was a time when every person above the age of fifty was considered wise.  Foundation for this thinking was due to the fact that they had seen more of life and had absorbed valuable information; therefore, rendering them capable of imparting much needed advice to those of us who were lacking in experience.  No one doubted that the advice given by these “elderly” people had merit.  Whether or not the advice was followed, we certainly did not resent their offering it.

In some instances, the advice was contrary to the methods that we had been taught in the home and were cast aside, but never did we ostracize the person because we thought that they had become Senile If for no other reason, they were respected simply because they were our elders.

Children were taught from day one to respect others and especially those older than they.  This was an important part of the training of a child even if it meant NOT sparing of the rod.  Punishment was a sure thing if one had been deemed guilty of “sassing” an elderly person.  It just was NOT accepted.

Impudence could do as much to damage a young person’s character as the committing of a crime.  When they became an adult, instead of being thought of as “wise,” they were labeled “smart-aleck.”

In today’s society, the wise are mostly in the minority.  Being a “smart-aleck” is even considered “cool.”  Portrayals of old, dottering, individuals who are barely in control of their faculties is entertainment.  Many times, unruly youths are cast as heroes.

Perhaps a lot of this can be attributed to the loss of the values of home training.  In a world of violence, infidelity, ˜by-the-book” rearing of children and the importance being placed on “doing your own thing,” the respect for others has been likewise cast aside.

This brings to mind a little gem which I read years ago that states…“It is a wise monkey indeed that won’t monkey with another monkey’s monkey.”

Why then don’t we stop monkeying around and listen to those who are wiser than we?

The only thing we have to lose is our own self respect.

Demijon

Everyone has a photographic memory; some just don’t have film.

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Intimidation

Posted on November 26, 2008 by John Sellers

I am not sure if the law for proper following distance for vehicles on our streets and highways is Nationwide; but there is a State law that sets the distance at 1 car length for each 10 miles per hour of speed.

There are those, however, who feel that they can force the car in front of them to drive faster than the posted speed limit.  These folks are the ones who will continually drive about 6 inches from the rear bumper of the vehicle ahead of them.  Perhaps, they learned this from watching high performance race cars on a closed track.  Actions such as this is inviting a collision that could result in serious injury of even death.

Apparently, these drivers are not aware of another rule.  That rule states that to hit another car from the rear places the fault on the driver behind.  Following closer than the above rule will surely result in a traffic citation.  If this is not a law, it is certainly included in most Insurance contracts.  Insurance Companies contention is; that the vehicle behind was following too closely, therefore, voiding the payment of a claim.
I have actually experienced this when another driver would follow my vehicle for miles, almost touching my bumper while flashing his headlights.  Then suddenly, he would cross the double, yellow lines and pass on a blind curve.  If an oncoming vehicle had been approaching, a three car crash would have resulted.  On, at least, one occasion, we arrived at the next stop light at exactly the same time.  So; why was he in such a hurry when it was obvious that passing was an unsafe maneuver?

Another rule of the road, and perhaps a law, is the lowering of headlights when approaching an oncoming vehicle.  Every car has a bright and a dim mode for the headlights.  Newer cars are equipped with Halogen headlights that are much brighter than the sealed-beam ones.  Meeting an oncoming vehicle with bright Halogen headlights tends to blind a driver.  Couple this with Halogen fog lights and a disaster is in the making.

Note to all drivers who follow too closely:  Intimidation does not work. It does no more than to cause you to be unable to control your car safely and could result in catastrophe.  It is much better to arrive a little late than not to arrive at all.
Demijon

Possibly true:  Half the people you know are below average.

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Th’ Meeting

Posted on November 23, 2008 by John Sellers

The Loyal Order of “The Sons Of Rest” convened on the wooden bench under the shelter of the Filling Station for their weekly meeting.  Hardy Hastings, the Grand Marshal, called the meeting to order by banging his walker on the concrete and saying, “All Rise.”  When no one moved, he said, “Be seated.”
The first order of business was for “Bigun” Sanders to recite the by-laws.  Bigun stood, removed his NASCAR ball cap and began; “We, The Sons of Rest , do hereby vow to protect our sovereign county from the hoards of Yankees, politicians, and other varmints that impede our way of life.  We are empowered to use all means at our disposal to discourage intrusion of these varmints, short of wasting shotgun shells on them.  So says article 324.1-A of the Sons of Rest code.”

Minutes for the last meeting were read and approved and Hardy then asked, “What is the feeling of this body on the recent election?”  “Bubba” Watkins was the newest member of the club and immediately raised his hand.  Hardy said, “The chair recognizes Bubba.”

Bubba rose, pulled a cud of chewing tobacco from his mouth, walked over and deposited it in the oil barrel that served for a trash bin before he spoke.  “Whaal, the way I sees it, that there Womern is gittin’ ‘xactly whot she wanted.  She figures she is goin’ to be CO-President up ’til she screws everthing up; an’ then that Obana feller is goin’ to take the blame.  Her an’ her Old Man has et at the givernment trough for so long that they ain’t no way they’s goin’ be put out to pasture.  Neither one uv them could hold out to do a day’s work an’ yet we’s gotta scrimp an’ save to pay’em they pension whot’s more’n I can make in a lifetime.”  “I yield the floor back to Hardy.”

Other pertinent business was discussed; the major ones being, taking a vote to ask Ot to lower the price of his gas and whether or not to rebuke that gal of Albert Jenkins for running off with that lightning rod salesman.
When all of the week’s business had been taken care of Hardy banged his walker again and the meeting was adjourned.  Several of the members formed a group under the wash bay of the station that was well away from the bench.  Archie Tadlock was the first to speak in hushed tones;  “I don’t know about y’all but as fer as i’m consarned, That Bubba aught to be our nex’ Grand Marshall.  That thare feller is some more smart.”

“I hyeard his daddy were a lawyer up in ‘Napilous, said Bud Parker; we jus’ may need him iffen things gits wurse round here than they already are.  Never know when we’ll have th’ need to sic th’ law on somebody.  Be good to have him backin’ us.”
Writ by Demijon

A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking.

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Susie Mae’s Diary.

Posted on November 21, 2008 by John Sellers

Dear Diary,

For my sixty-fifth birthday this year, my daughter-in-law (the dear) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me. Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football cheerleader 47 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.

I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Belinda, who identified herself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear. My daughter-in-law  seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

MONDAY :
Started my day at 6:00 a.m. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Belinda waiting for me. She is something of a Greek goddess – with blond hair, dancing eyes and a dazzling white smile. Belinda gave me a tour and showed me the machines. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which she conducted her aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring! Belinda was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time she was around. This is going to be a FANTASTIC week-!!

TUESDAY :
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Belinda made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air; then she put weights on it! My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile. Belinda’s rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT-!! It’s a whole new life for me.

WEDNESDAY :
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectoral muscles. Driving was OK as long as I didn’t try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a Honda in the club parking lot. Belinda was impatient with me.  She insisted that my screams bothered other club members. Her voice is a little too perky for early in the morning; and when she scolds, she gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying. My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Belinda put me on the stair ‘monster’. Why the h**l would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Belinda told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy a better life . She said some other s**t too that did not speak well of her trainer / client relationship.

THURSDAY :
Belinda was waiting f or me with her vampire-like teeth exposed as her thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl. I couldn’t help being a half an hour late, it took me that long to tie my shoes. Belinda took me to work out with dumbbells. When she was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom. She sent another skinny b***h to find me. Then, as punishment, she put me on the rowing machine — which I sank.

FRIDAY :
I hate that b***h Belinda more than any human being has ever hated another human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anemic, anorexic little cheerleader. If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat the crap out of her with it.

Belinda wanted me to work on my triceps. I don’t have any triceps! And if you don’t want dents in the floor, don’t hand me those D**m barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich. The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher. Why couldn’t it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?

SATURDAY :
Belinda left a message on my answering machine in her grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today. Just hearing her made me want to smash the machine with anything I could lift.  However, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up watching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.

SUNDAY :
I’m having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over. I will also pray that the next time my daughter-in-law, (the little s**t), chooses a gift for me, it should be fun (like a root canal or a hysterectomy). I still say if God had wanted me to bend over and touch my toes, He would have put them on my knees.

I sincerely hope that I can re-gain the strength to contact my lawyer and change my will.

Love, Susie Mae

Note to Belinda:  “When you’re talking to me;  KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!”

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TITLES

Posted on November 20, 2008 by John Sellers

            While rummaging through my desk one rainy afternoon, I came across a list of titles that I had planned to write a story about.  At one time, they probably made perfect sense, but now each was as foreign to me as Arabic.  If I had pursued them while the ideas were fresh in my mind, who knows, perhaps one of them would be on the New York Times best seller list.Â

            The very fact that the list was discovered months or perhaps years later is proof that I handled these titles in my usual method, that of procrastination.  Here were wonderful, exciting titles but with no story outline.  They were nothing more than a bunch of jumbled words at this late date.  Not one of them caused the little bulb over my head to light up.

            Examples:

            “JOLENE’S BRA.”  Now why in the world would I attempt to create a story about Jolene and her undergarments?  I don’t even know the girl and even less about brassieres.

            “PASSION’S OVERTURE.”  Titillating to say the least, but nothing in my rather limited experience has qualified me to even think about passion and as far as I’m concerned overture was something that William Tell did.

            “TALES FROM THE GREEN SWAMP.”  I know where the Green Swamp is, but I have never been there nor have I ever heard any tales from there with the exception of the thirty-nine foot alligators and the hundred pound rattlesnakes.

            “STRIP SEARCH.”  Apparently this would have been a story about police or detective work, but since my only encounters with either has been in the neighborhood of illegal parking,  Why would I even imagine myself as an authority on police procedures?  It would have made for fascinating reading though, don’t you think?

            These are only a few of the titles which I had hoped to develop into best sellers and were laid aside until such time that I had the opportunity to give them proper attention.  When that time came, I had completely forgotten about the titles to say nothing of the story line.  Perhaps one day soon I will write a story about these titles.  You know, possibly something like…

                                                      THE TEMPTRESS

By Demijon

            Jolene lived in a rather obscure cabin situated deep in the Green Swamp where she had to battle massive alligators and huge rattlesnakes to do even simple tasks like the hanging of her wash on nearby bushes.  She was a passionate person who spent her days reciting overtures to the wildlife that abounded in the area while lovingly tending the illegal liquor still that was the major source of her income.  The pride she took in her product was evident, due in part to her insistence on the use of the finest ingredients for its production.Â

            It was a hot summer afternoon when Detective Drake and Officer Pike raided the Illegal operation.  Officer Pike smashed the still and proceeded to empty the several cases of whiskey-laden fruit jars stacked nearby, obviously awaiting distribution.  Detective Drake advised Jolene of her rights and gently handcuffed her, ignoring her passionate attempts to seduce him. When he attempted to strip search her, he discovered that she was devoid of one important item of her underclothes due to the fact that she had left her brassiere hanging on a small bush that Jolene used as a makeshift clothesline…..

            Oh well, maybe someday.

 Demijon

This Blog does not have CENSORSHIP:  What it does have are limitations on what we can write about and still conform to the rating for General Audiences.

D.J.

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“N”. “C”. “WEED.”

Posted on July 25, 2006 by John Sellers  

It’s time for another laugh; when you are reminded of the following.    Dj.

Deputy Sheriff, Jess Baxter, walked into the “High Sheriff’s” domain; just to make his report on the day’s patrol from which he had just returned.  Settling into an easy chair opposite the enormous desk occupied by the “Law Man”, he waited until he was asked, “Well, what happened during your tour of duty?”

Stretching his 6 foot 2 inch frame until he was almost lying in the chair; Jess began with, “I was cruising out on number 57.  Out near where Long Pine, crosses;  I noticed fresh car tracks turning into the woods.”

“This appeared to be something that would bear investigating, so I followed the tracks; and about 200 yards into the woods, I came upon a red Mustang with California license plates.” 

“The trunk lid was open and the trunk was about half full of what; Lawyers ask that we call;  “Green Vegetable Matter“, when we have to testify in court at a drug trial.”

“This looked suspicious, so I decided to wait awhile and see what was going on.  I had only waited for around five minutes when a young man came thrashing through the undergrowth.  His shirt was off and he was sweating profusely.  He had his arms full of this freshly cut, Green Vegetable Matter.”

“When he spotted me, he stopped in his tracks and started mumbling,”  ˜Oh my gawd!” “Oh my gawd!” “I said to him”, “Boy, just what in the tar-nation are you doing on private property?”

“His answer was ˜Jeeze, Officer, please, I ain’t never done nothing like this before: But I’ve heard that North Carolina has good WEED just growing wild, and I thought I’d check it out.”  “Please, officer, I didn’t mean to do it”.

After sizing him up real good, I said to him, “Son:”  “Tell you what:  If you’ll get in that car, and head back to California; and don’t ever show your face in North Carolina again, I’ll let you go.”

Hearing that, the Sheriff almost swallowed the cigar that he had been puffing on and shouted, “Why the hell didn’t you arrest him;  bring him in; and book him?”

Jess grinned and said, “Well, Sheriff; to my knowledge:  “There is no law in this State or any other State; against an “Idiot,”  filling the trunk of his car full of Green, “POISON OAK.”

An old Demijon saying:  “Ignorance sometimes scratches the Itch.”     Dj.

MULES

MULES

muleIn case you missed this one.    Dj.

GEE & HAW.

Have you ever wondered just how one trains a mule to respond to directions?

Training or Breaking a mule is done in the following sequents.  A Bridle is a harness ,that fits over the mule’s head with an iron Bit placed in the mouth.  The bit has rings on either side to which, leather or rope, plow lines’ are attached. The lines are run through rings attached to the ‘hames’ that are fitted onto the ‘collar around the mules neck.  The lines then go to the handles on either side of the plow’

Trace chains are hooked to the hames and travel through hooks on the ‘backband’ in the center of the animals back and on to the ‘singletree’ that is attached to the front of the plow.

To guide the mule in the proper direction, the farmer or Trainer pulls on the right line and yells GEE!  After repeated moves such as this, the mule begins to realize that “GEE” means move to the right.   To move to the left, the left line is pulled and the yell is HAW”.

After repeated tugs on either line at the same time GEE or HAW is yelled, the mule eventually learns to move either left or right on command. Depending on the particular animal, this training could take only a matter of hours or even days and weeks.  In isolated instances, this training could amount to naught since there were a few animals that were so danged mule-headed”   that they never learned.

I remember a neighbor once purchased a young mule that had never been broken.  He worked for weeks to train the mule to plow without success.  He finally asked my father to help him to break the animal.

Together, they hitched the mule to a jog-stock in an open field.  Regardless of their attempts, the training was fruitless until my father walked over to a nearby woods and cut a small sapling tree about eight feet long.

With the neighbor holding onto the plow and lines, he got the mule walking in a straight line.  When he yelled GEE, my dad hit the mule behind the ear with all of his strength.  The same thing occurred when HAW was yelled.

It took several licks with the sapling before the mule would literally JUMP to the right or left, with only a mere whisper of gee or haw.

Mules, like some humans, learn fast while others take a while longer; but eventually all do learn.

Demijon

Anyone questioning these methods will prompt the response; “Y’all ain’t from around here:  Are y’all?”       Dj

“TOTE IN STOVE-WOOD; Before dark.”

Majestic Wood Burner Stove - found on farmcollector.com One of the many chores for young children inthe olden days’ was to keep a plentiful supply of fuel for the Cook Stove in the wood-box that was located in one corner of the kitchen.  Bear in mind that this chore was necessary winter and summer.

Since the firebox in the cook stove was quite a bit smaller (see small door at left of the front of the appliance), stove-wood was split from pine logs into thin strips to approximate 3 X 12 inches. One reason for use of the stove during the summer months was for heating water.

The water reservoir was attached to the stove on the extreme right side as depicted by the photo. The center door was where all the baking was done and the two doors at the top were the warming closets.  Leftovers from the noon meal, dinner”, was placed inside to be warmed by the built-up heat from the flue if desired.

Ashes were removed from a small door underneath the firebox and was usually done by an adult. There were generally two round lids (eyes) above the firebox and two above the oven. Removing or replacing these eyes could regulate the heat if needed.  Note: A  Cast iron pan was placed over on opened ‘eye’ to prevent smoke escaping, when changing Utensils. 

If there was a supplemental heater in the large kitchen, it also required larger logs, therefore, this job was meted out to older family members. These logs were usually stacked on the porch, just outside the doorway for convenience as well to prevent loss of heat while stoking the heater.

During the summer months when the fireplace was not used, “Flatirons” were heated on the cook stove for use after wash day. They could be heated while a meal was cooking or water was heating.

Most farm families enjoyed a hot breakfast and a hot dinner” at the noon hour but “supper” was usually cold leftovers or warmed in the warming closets if the stove was in use. Eating a cold supper, allowed the house to cool at night during the hot summer months.

I can still recall the afternoon admonishment to “Be sure to tote in enough stove-wood and don’t forget the kindling.” Also, I can remember sopping’ molasses with hot biscuits early in the morning.

“Things just couldn’t get any better than this:  Could they”?

Demijon

MY PROBLENS:

I SUPPOSE I’LL NEVER UNDERSTAND

There are many things about the American people and our language that leaves me completely baffled.  For instance;

The craze over weight loss:  “Why in the world will a person order a double cheeseburger, a large order of fries, a slice of pie, and then a diet drink?

Protection for our second most expensive item; our automobiles:  “We build additions onto our houses called garages; and then stuff them full of discarded items while the vehicles sit exposed to the elements.”

A guarantee for both:  “We order a pizza and receive a guarantee that if it is not delivered within a certain length of time there will be no charge.  Why can’t we get the same guarantee for an Ambulance or a Police Officer?

“Why is the word politician used to describe a representative of the people when the dictionary’s number 2 definitions are, seeking personal gain; or scheming?”

“If the past tense of teacher is taught, why isn’t the past tense of preacher – prought?”

“If you discard all of your odds and ends but one; what would it be? An odd or an end?

“Eggplant contains no eggs, hamburgers contain no ham, nor does pineapple contain any pine or apples.”

“Was the forerunner of the horseless carriage; a horseful carriage?”  “What about a strapful gown for the gentle sex?”

“Why does a house burn up; and then is considered burned down?”

“Ever wonder why we park our car on driveways; but drive our car on parkways?”

“Writers write; but fingers don’t fing; Hammers don’t ham; nor do Grocers groce.”
            “You cannot make one amend.”  “You cannot search through the annal of history.”

“If the plural of tooth is teeth; why not booth //beeth; or moose //meese?”

“How can the weather be hot as hell one day and cold as hell the next?”

“Vegetarians eat vegetables:”  “Do humanitarians eat humans?

“You write a letter and bite your tongue.’  “ If you wrote a letter, would you bote your tongue?”

“As you can readily see, I am totally flabbergasted because:”  “When I wind up my watch, I start it; but when I wind up this post, I end it.”                                                      Demijon

BEWARE OF FEAR!

FEAR DOES THINGS TO A PERSON.

Billy Bob was prone to expound on his prowess with members of the opposite sex to anyone who would take the time to listen.

He was relating his latest escapade to Bubba while they each nursed a long-neck Miller Hi-Life at the local road house.  It went something like this.

“There I was; In her bedroom making passionate love while her husband was working on the night shift.  Suddenly, we heard a sound coming from the vicinity of the front door.”

“It’s my husband !!!;”  She screamed;  “He’s home early!  You’ve got to get out of here!”

Billy Bob continued, “Not taking the time to dress, I threw my clothes out of the window and climbed through behind them and clung to the window sash by the tips of my fingers for the rest of the night.”  “BOY, was I mad!”

Bubba took a long pull from his Hi-Life bottle and said, “Man, you were lucky to get out with your hide intact.  Were you mad because you almost got caught?”

“Hell no, replied Billy Bob,”  “What really made me furious was that when it got light enough for me to see, I found that the ground was only six inches below my feet.”

“SHUWEEEE!!!”.  Dj.

THIS MAKES SENSE.

Jethro drove his pickup truck into downtown Atlanta for the first time.  His ignorance of metropolitan street patterns was obvious when he turned onto a one way street and headed in the wrong direction.

He had gone several blocks when a police cruiser appeared behind him and signaled for him to pull over.  The officer approached the truck and in a loud voice asked, “Where in the hell do you think you’re going, fellow?”

Calmly, Jethro answered, “I really don’t know, Officer:”  “But I reckon I’m late; because it sure looks like everybody else is going home.”

OR, EVEN…

Two mice were strolling through the park as two gorgeous models walked by.

One mouse said,  “Let’s catch up with them, and we’ll climb up their legs.”

“Not me;” said the other one, “I’m a titmouse.”

Demijon

A GUEST

“Me an’ Susie Mae wuz settin’ by th’ Fireplace atter we had et Supper, when somebody knocked on th’ door.”

“Susie Mae got up an’ opened th’ door; an’ it were Jessie Lee Barton; from ‘cross th Creek.  He were all wrapped up in his overcoat”  “Com on in; Jessie Lee,” sez Susie Mae: “An hang your coat on that nail, ‘side th’ door.  Pull up a chair and set next to th’ fireplace.”

Jesse Lee took off his’ns coat an’ commenced to pull th’ Easy-Chair up to th’ fireplace when Susie Mae jus’ HAD A FIT!”  “She sez; “No – No,  Not that one, with th’ quilt throwed over it.”  That one is r’served fer Mr. Trump.”

Jessie Lee’s eyes got real big, an’ he sez; “Has Y’all went an’ had Th’ President  a-visitin many times’?”

Susie Mae, grinned an’ sez; “Why, of corse.”  “He comes by ever’ now an’ then.”  “He ain’t Th’ President.”  “He’s a neihbor’  an He has done that ever since he joined forces with Jay Henry.”  “I thought everbodie knowed that Him an’ Jay Henry wuz partners.”

“How ‘Bout That:  Jay Henry an’ Th’ President; ‘In Ka-Hoots?”  Why’d  Y’all,  went to th’ trouble of r-servin’ a chair fer him.”  Jessie Lee axed.

Susie Mae come to her sense’s and ansered;  “I done told you who he wuz.  Last time he were he; He claimed He lost a valuable Diamond; an’ ‘spected hit fell out’en his pocket whilst he sot in that chair.”  He axed us to not let nobodie sot  in that thare chair, ’til he can ‘Zammin’ hit.”

“Do Th’ President come see y’all rale offen?”  Jesse Lee axed.

Susie Mae grinned an’ sez; “Jesse Lee;  You ain’t lissening”.  “I done told you;” “Hit ain’t th’ President,”  “Hit’s “BUSTER TRUMP;”  “Th’ Bootlegger:”  “He wuz Jus’ makin’ a delivery, lak he usual  do.”

Like Pa always said:  “Hit takes all kinds to make a world.”  “And we’s got most of ’em.”

Demijon